


i'm a goner

by gothamsweetie



Category: DCU, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood and Injury, Crying, Death, F/M, Flashbacks, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Love, Major Character Injury, Memories, Sad Ending, Soppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 08:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17464304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothamsweetie/pseuds/gothamsweetie
Summary: imagine working with victor and always being on the job with him. you two are famous throughout the underworld for being an unstoppable force; you were seemingly invincible. even the murmur of your names would cause anyone in gotham to check over their shoulder, just in case.but all good things have to come to an end.





	i'm a goner

**Author's Note:**

> yo swag i'm new to ao3?? i mean i've been reading on here for over a year but i've never had an account,, i'm usually on wattpad as @easterkangaroo and instagram as @gothamsweetie

imagine working with victor and always being on the job with him. you two are famous throughout the underworld for being an unstoppable force; you were seemingly invincible. even the murmur of your names would cause anyone in gotham to check over their shoulder, _just in case_.

but all good things have to come to an end.

you two had been hired to "take care of" one of the mayoral candidates for penguin under galavan's orders, and you had chased the target out onto the street with his one remaining lackey. the gcpd had pulled up in front of the building and created a blockade with their vehicles - the strike force relentlessly firing into the bracing night air. the officers gradually advance towards you, using the cars as barriers between themselves and yours and victor's gunfire. you're crouching behind a jeep, sharply reloading your gun with zsasz shielding himself next to you. stepping back out into the road with a renewed fire, ignited by simply meeting eyes with you for a split second, victor brings one officer down with you shooting right beside him. the officer screams and writhes on the road as the rest of her force opens fire even more viscously than before. a male officer rushes out from behind his vehicle and aims his gun, shooting victor in his shoulder. he grunts as his wound brings him onto one knee and, as your attention is snatched away for the briefest of moments, another officer hits you in the centre of your chest. growling, victor aims his last bullet at a fire hydrant and sends an arch of water between you and the cops. he drags himself to his feet and hauls you into his arms, ignoring the strict jabs of pain rushing throughout his shoulder.

through your slipping vision, you can see the darkness of a back alley shadowing victor's face above you. he collapses against the wall, falling downwards until he's sitting on the weedy concrete with your head in his lap. you're humming brokenly to yourself, your eyes searching the night sky as you fought against your tears.

"this isn't meant to happen. this isn't allowed to happen." victor is grasping for your hand, his clammy white palm meeting yours and his fingers latching onto your knuckles as he knots your hands together. he clenches his jaw, his nostrils flaring as a muscle in his face jerks with fear. you look up at him as you hold your chest despairingly, your whole body shuddering as you struggle to find your breath. victor's now cupping your shaking hand in his, his thumb rubbing rigid shapes across your palm.

the one time he shows emotion. the one time he lets himself fall from that claustrophobic shell he holds himself so tightly in. the one time you can appreciate the way the rich colour of his eyes flicker and glisten, the way his cheeks redden like wild fires, the way his chin trembles ever so slightly... is when you're dying. the edges of your vision are growing gloomier - a swelling storm you have no way of sheltering from as the blood dribbles from between your slim fingers. you didn't think this would ever happen. was it foolish of you to believe that you would never die? that you would never be sunken to such a pathetic state of dying in some infested alleyway in the backend of gotham city? that thought is what you had worshipped for so many years - the delicious rush of adrenaline as you stripped targets from their lives is all you had grown to care about. and victor. of course you had grown to care about victor. love him, even.

it had happened all at once. in the first few months of working for don falcone, you had only seen him as a comrade; he was someone who would steal your hits and lurk in the corner of falcone's study, aching for another job. but somehow you began to see him differently. as if someone had lit a golden candle and held it towards his face, everything he did now seemed so utterly beautiful to you. the way he talked, the way he moved, the way he worked, the way he looked. the way he would grow giddy at the anticipation of a kill, the way he would cock his head and push his lip out when someone spoke to him. he was so entirely perfect and you were kidding yourself if you said that you hadn't dreamt of the scars of his forearms, the slope of his neck, the intensity of his stares.

but now his face is grainy and shadowed in the grim orange light of the alleyway. you can feel your tears chasing down the sides of your face, nipping at the raw cuts decorating your skin. victor is rubbing his eyes with his hand, his breath catching in his throat each time he sniffled.

"please don't cry. please, it doesn't suit you-" you whisper as you weakly squeeze his hand with your own.

_i'm a goner_  
_somebody catch my breath_


End file.
